


There Was Only One Bed and I Can't Think of a Title What the Hell Do You Want Me to Say

by cookingwithcyanide



Category: Sonic the Hedgehog (2020)
Genre: M/M, Porn with Feelings, a tender pre-dawn handjob, and i choose to believe stone has STANDARDS, and the COMMAS, and there was only one bed, its just 700 adjectives per minute, look its basically jsut some flimsy plot leading up to, on jod theres a sentence thats almost 100 words dont WORRY about it, professional adults set an alarm for the morning, robotnik cuddles in his sleep, several complaints about an air conditioner, stone has a VERY interesting dream..., the gratuitous overuse of italics, the prose gets a little florid here bc i wrote this while reading wilfred owens poetry fr class, they dont kiss bc robotnik has not brushed his teeth, this is ME writing so u already KNOW its gonna be TENDER, what more do you want from me, yall already know how this goes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-07
Updated: 2020-04-07
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:28:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23533066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cookingwithcyanide/pseuds/cookingwithcyanide
Summary: And there was only… one bed. Y’all already know how this goes.Working title on this one was "Good morning starshine, Stone's dick says hello!"
Relationships: Dr. Eggman | Dr. Robotnik/Agent Stone
Comments: 11
Kudos: 138





	There Was Only One Bed and I Can't Think of a Title What the Hell Do You Want Me to Say

**Author's Note:**

> I’m pretty sure someone mentioned this in the server a few weeks ago? I do not remember who but I haven’t seen nearly enough of this trope for Stobotnik and I needed to Personally remedy that. It's needlessly tender because this is ME we're talking about and I've been reading too much early 1900s tragic poetry, as usual. I think the vibe translated pretty well to my Sonic 2020 smut fanfiction and I like to think that Wordsworth would be proud of me.

They’re already exhausted by the time they get to the hotel. After two flight delays and a frankly  _ harrowing _ layover at LaGuardia between their transatlantic and domestic flights, even Robotnik looks a little haggard, and Stone has seen him stay up working for days at a time before eventually passing out. And now, three hours after their check-in time, they’re being told that their room has been rebooked.

“What do you  _ mean _ , our room’s been given away?” Stone could already tell that, intimidating as Dr. Robotnik is, he would be making no headway with the desk clerk. She couldn’t be older than twenty. It was nearly midnight. There was nothing between heaven and hell that could phase this woman.

“Unfortunately, sirs, you are three hours late to your check-in. Seeing as you did not contact the hotel to inform us that you would be checking in late, your room was rebooked.” Her smile didn’t slip. She seemed to be staring somewhere over Robotnik’s shoulder.

“We were on a fucking  _ airplane, _ how the hell were we supposed to contact you-” Stone stepped in front of the doctor before he could get started ranting, flashing his most apologetic smile at the woman behind the counter.

“Look, I’m so sorry to be an inconvenience, especially at this hour-” Robotnik scoffed behind him. “But is there any way we could still get a room? We’ve had a very long day.” Stone maintains eye contact with the clerk as he slips a folded twenty into the tip jar. “It would be much appreciated.”

The clerk’s eyes flick to Robotnik behind him, to the tip jar, and back to Stone. Her smile morphs into something a little more genuine. “Of course sir. Let me see what I can do.”

Stone isn’t sure whether she was being spiteful or if this really is the only thing available when they get to the room and it’s a single. He knows Robotnik has half a mind to storm back to the lobby and try to pick another fight, but Robotnik had also nearly fallen asleep leaned up against the elevator wall, so Stone sighs and herds him into the room and dumps their bags on the carpet by the radiator. The best way to deal with this, in his opinion, is to discuss it as little as possible and not think too much about it.

Robotnik seems to have frozen just inside the door, staring at the queen bed. Stone leaves him to it and digs in his overnight bag for pajama pants and a fresh shirt. “I’m going to take a shower,” he announces, more to the room than Robotnik himself. The bathroom does little to inspire Stone to stray from his old military habit of scrubbing himself down in five minutes, but he absolutely refuses to get into bed with 36 hours of airplane and airport and running between gates still on him. Then he plans to pass out as soon as his head hits the pillow and very pointedly not think about his boss laying three feet away from him.

Robotnik, for his part, can hardly settle down. Even after he sheds his coat and button down, tossing them carelessly onto the desk chair, and changes from his slacks into the first pair of pajama pants he pulled from his overnight bag, he can’t get comfortable. He’s a few minutes into mentally listing off everything wrong with his situation- from the too-cold, too-loud air conditioning, to the blinds that don’t close all the way, to the unreasonably stiff mattress and scratchy blankets on the bed he has to share with the likes of his assistant- when Stone comes out of the bathroom, leaving the light on and the door cracked so that the room isn’t pitch dark when he turns out the lights, the way Robotnik keeps the lab when he knows he’ll be spending the night. Stone’s hair is mussed from towel drying and he’s wearing what look like well-worn flannel pants, and it occurs to Robotnik that he’s never seen his agent out of a suit and tie. Even when Robotnik begrudgingly asks for his help with something mechanical in the lab, he merely takes off his jacket and doesn't look any less put together for it, oil stains on his sleeves besides. To see Stone looking so  _ casual _ disorients Robotnik enough that he hardly notices him pulling back the covers until he’s already crashing into the pillows. 

“Do you have an alarm set for eight tomorrow?” Stone’s voice is muffled, face half-smashed into the pillowcase. In the faint glow from the bathroom light, Robotnik can see that his eyes are already closed. 

“Yes,” he says it more quietly than he means to, even in the quiet of the room. He watches Stone  _ hmm _ and roll his shoulders, crack his neck. 

“Good. Goodnight, sir.” His breaths even out moments later. Robotnik has no idea how he does it. The buzz and rattle of the air conditioning is still in the back of his mind, and the whole room feels too foreign to him for him to fall asleep, no matter how exhausted he is. Eventually though, warmth radiating from the other side of the bed, watching the slow rise and fall of Stone’s back in the dim light- just barely there, just how he likes- he drifts off.

\-----

Stone thinks, faintly, that he must be dreaming, but he doesn’t mind. He can only really tell because everything is disjointed and strange, but in a way that feels completely natural. Right, even. Feels good. Stone is unaware of anything outside of feeling safe and warm and heavy, rocking gently like he’s in a boat on some vast body of water. He drifts in and out of dark, fuzzy floating and being enveloped in warm, solid rising and falling and the faint headyspicy smell of bergamot and cloves, maybe cologne. There is liquid heat crawling up his chest and pooling in his stomach. Stone allows himself to sink further, deeper into that liquid feeling until he is completely submerged. He stays there, drifting and rocking and melting for what might be just short of forever.

Slowly, Stone becomes aware of hands on him, gently cradling his head, tracing slow, delicate patterns over the planes of his back. Stone shivers when the pattern shifts and strokes down his spine, pressing himself against the body beside him, the thigh between his legs- the slightest tendril of dread creeps in through the haze of sleep and arousal. He is in a hotel room, he remembers. He is in a hotel  _ bed, _ with his boss. His boss, who seems to have wrapped himself around Stone at some point in the night. Whose leg Stone is very noticeably humping.

Stone freezes, hot shame crashing out from his chest and prickling anxiously across his face. He wants to still the rocking of his hips, shrink away,  _ retreat _ , but Robotnik must realize he’s awake, because he shifts uncomfortably against him. His leg presses  _ just so _ against his erection. Stone’s breath catches audibly and his hips stutter forward involuntarily. He figures he may as well make do with his position and buries his flushed face in Robotnik’s collarbone, trying to hide, except there’s that warm, heady scent again- the doctor’s scent. Stone resists the sudden urge to  _ lick. _ He lets out a shaky breath.   


“How long have you been awake?” The words are barely more than a whisper, muffled against the column of Robotnik’s throat. 

“Not… not long.” By Robotnik’s count, it’s been a little over half an hour. Although, he’s been a little distracted. First by his own alarm at waking to find that he had somehow managed to entangle his limbs thoroughly with his assistant’s in his sleep. Coming to with his chest flush with Stone’s and his nose pressed into his hair had been… unexpected. Stone grinding down onto his thigh, softly breathing a damp spot onto his collar, hands fisted loosely in the back of his shirt was decidedly more so. Robotnik should have woken him up immediately. Or, no, he should have separated them, rolled a respectable distance away and tried not to pay attention to the way Stone  _ hmm _ ed sleepily and clung tighter to him when Robotnik tried to extricate himself from the tangle of arms and legs. Certainly he should not have let things carry on as long as they have, hating that he is playing the voyeur and lecher at once but unable to keep himself from enjoying the situation. Robotnik has seen Stone in many lights and he has time and time again proven himself able to be capable, calculating, ruthless, and efficient. Having his agent in his arms, soft and needy and almost helpless in a way that he never is, ignites something in Robotnik. He can’t help but think that this soft Stone is only for him, should only ever be for him. In this moment, he wants to give Stone whatever he wants, whatever the cost.

Stone is tense against him, almost trembling he’s keeping so forcibly still. His efforts are belied when his hips twitch up again, seeking friction. Stone’s breath hitches. His face is hot with mortification against Robotnik’s skin. “I’m so sorry about this, sir, I-”

“No.” Robotnik doesn’t process what he’s saying until the word is already hanging in the tense air over them. He pulls Stone’s face away from his neck and cradles his head in one hand, thumbing softly through the short hair above his ear. Stone does tremble now, as Robotnik frowns at him earnestly, observing the way the watery morning light falls in slats over him, highlighting the creases from Robotnik’s shirt on Stone’s cheek and the flush creeping high up his face. His eyes are wide, and not entirely frightened- he seems resigned to some fate Robotnik has yet to dole out. “Let me take care of this,” Robonik says, and Stone hears  _ Let me take care of you. _ He presses the next words to Stone’s temple, his hand slipping into the waistband of Stone’s soft flannel pants. “Let me do this for you,” he says, and Stone understands,  _ You do so much for me. _

Stone gasps when Robotnik’s fingers just barely graze his cock and pause there- waiting, Stone realizes, for him to respond. As if there was anything Robotnik could ask of him that would not willingly oblige. “ _ Please, _ ” he chokes out, torn between maintaining eye contact with Robotnik and curling into him as closely as possible, burying his face in Robotnik’s neck and his hands in his shirt and just every part of him as near and open and accessible as he can be for Robotnik. “Sir, please-  _ please _ touch me-” he breaks off in a groan when Robotnik’s hand wraps loosely around his cock. 

Robotnik can hardly breathe as Stone practically falls apart in his arms. He’s already slick with precome, and Robotnik’s right hand glides so easily over his cock while his left rubs soothingly over his agent’s back. “Of course. Anything, Stone,” he murmurs into Stone’s hair. “For you, anything.” He means it too, certain of this watching Stone writhe and moan so prettily against him, delightfully responsive as Robotnik slowly, sweetly jerks him off in the morning light. 

It doesn’t take long for Stone’s back to arch and his hands to clench at Robotnik’s chest. He comes, crying “Sir,  _ sir! _ ” and biting down on Robotnik’s collarbone hard enough to leave it tender and red. Robotnik strokes him through the aftershocks, until Stone’s cock is soft in his hand and Stone relaxes against him. He rolls onto his back, dazed and sated, cushioned by pillows. Even still, he whines when Robotnik sits up and turns away, missing the contact but too blissed out to move after him. Robotnik is back in a moment, though, with tissues from the nightstand to gently wipe the come from his stomach. Stone sighs and closes his eyes, squirming when Robotnik’s fingers brush softly over his sensitive skin.

“What time is it?” He still sounds groggy, and half-wrecked on top of it. Robotnik grins over him.

“Just after seven.” His hand curls possessively around Stone’s ribs under his rucked up shirt. Stone turns into the touch. “Plenty of time if you want to grab a shower before we head out.”

Stone lets his eyes slip shut again, just enjoying the feeling of Robotnik’s blunt nails dragging lightly up and down his side. “In a bit,” he says, even though he can already feel himself drifting back to sleep. He can deal with it later. Right now Robotnik is pulling him in close with wiry arms and humming softly into his hair. In the hum of the air conditioner and warming light falling in through the broken blinds and the warm weight of Robotnik’s arm slung over him, Stone puts off thinking about the day to come and the conversation that has to follow this morning. Everything will be taken care of at some point, he knows. Robotnik will take care of everything.


End file.
